


time in a bottle

by robpatFF



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robpatFF/pseuds/robpatFF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which louis and zayn have a game about time because they have so little of it, and also all the time in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> This little ditty ain’t true. I made it up in my head and then put it in a gdoc, and then I decided to just post it before it collected too much dust. And also so Miranda can stop staring at me while I procrastinate on writing my actual Zouis Big Bang.

"In one year," Zayn murmurs.

It's early, one of those stupid early mornings where they've been shoved into a van for transport. They're three across: Liam, Zayn, Louis, tucked away in the last row. Far enough that Zayn has absolutely no idea what Harry and Niall are giggling about up front, and he's too tired to even be irritated by that.

He's got his head pillowed on Liam's shoulder, perfect for resting, all broad and thick and warm. The words are quiet though, meant only for Louis, even though Zayn's tangled up in both of them, head on Liam and knee knocking gently with Louis', all of them sleep-slow and too warm pressed together like this.

Louis hums, acknowledgment and wondering and _gimme a minute_ all wrapped up into it. Zayn waits, closes his eyes again and syncs his rhythm to the rise of fall of Liam's chest, the slow way his fingers draw circles on Zayn's arm, down to his wrist, his fingers.

"Sold out stadium tour," Louis rasps out eventually. He's still got sleep caught in his voice, in the little wrinkles next to his eyes. "Every single show sold out."

"Bit steep," Liam mumbles. "Every show."

"'S against the rules," both Louis and Zayn say, and Liam makes an apologetic noise, ducks his head and goes back to playing with his phone.

Zayn nudges Louis, a little tap with his knee, enough to get Louis' attention back. "What else?"

Louis shrugs, the movement shifting both of them with how close they are. "We go to South America and get abhorrently drunk. Maybe get lost in Rio and end up with matching Jesus tattoos."

Zayn laughs, a silent exhale that relaxes him, makes him a little sleepy. "Maybe," he says.

It's quiet for a while, the only sound the engine of the van and the faint music coming from one of Liam's headphones that's dangling in his lap and Harry and Niall up front, voices dropped to a near whisper. Zayn's curious, but not curious enough to raise his voice and ask, not curious enough to destroy the tentative peace that's settled back here.

"In six months," Louis counters quietly. His fingers tap against Zayn's skin, against the zap that's etched between them.

In six months Zayn wants to be on a break, wants to be able to wake up at home and smoke with a bowl with Danny and Ant and open up that knitting kit collecting dust in his hall cupboard and finally work out that banana bread recipe he and Harry have yet to perfect. He wants to be able to make breakfast at eleven or twelve or three in the goddamn afternoon, scrambled eggs and tomatoes and some peppers from that organic market 10 minutes out.

He wants to hear the front door open, Louis' feet padding over the carpet before he peeks in, hair tousled and still in trackpants and a jumper. The slight, heavy hesitation they both get sometimes, caught in places other than lavish hotel rooms and familiar, cramped busses.

In six months Zayn wants to say, "Made yours over easy," and Louis will slip in between Danny and Ant, ruffle their heads in hello while they all wait for Zayn to fill their plates. Maybe later they'll Skype Niall, ask him how his hydrangeas are doing, the ones he got into after watching some special in the middle of the night on HGTV.

"In six months," Zayn starts, voice low and rough in the quiet of the car, "Our album's in the top ten, top five maybe. Rolling Stone loves it and rates it five stars, easy."

Louis snorts. He raises his eyebrows at Zayn, eyes blue as Zayn's ever known, even under the pink, rising sky. "If it wasn't against the rules, I'd call bullshit."

"Too bad 's against the rules," Zayn tells him. "It could happen, tell 'em, Li."

He looks at Liam, feels Louis do the same, both of them watching as Liam shakes his head and sticks his other earbud in.

"Not my game," Liam says, and Zayn feels relief and fondness and guilt all at once. It is their thing, Louis and Zayn, started days or weeks or months ago, originated in the quietest depths of boredom on the bus. They'd never said, not explicitly, that the others couldn't join, but Harry and Niall don't even bother getting involved and Liam only knows the rules because he's around them so much.

Still, Zayn shifts closer to him, listens to the faint beat that comes through Liam's earbuds and hums a bit of it, just to feel a little closer to Liam, for a moment.

"Zap," Louis whispers, quiet enough that Zayn has to move away for a moment, has to lean in towards Louis and smell his soap and the hotel's shampoo. "We have a number one album."

"Zap, we win a Grammy."

"Who'll do the acceptance speech, then?"

"Zap," Zayn says. "You do, and everyone loves it."

"Bullshit."

Zayn shakes his head, feels a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Against the rules."

"Not for Zap."

Zayn sighs. He tangles his free hand with Louis, their fingers warm and dry and familiar. "In five minutes," Zayn tells him. "I'm asleep and so are you."

Louis frowns. "Can you do it for yourself?"

"No rule that I can't."

"D'ya know you're a cheat?"

Zayn does laugh then, loud enough that Niall turns around and smiles at him, sleepy and golden yellow like sunshine. "Alright, Zayner?"

"I'm alright," Zayn tells him. He waits til Niall turns around, laughs a little quieter at the smug grin on Louis' face. " _Sleep_ , you nutter."

There's some grumbling, some rearranging of limbs where Zayn ends up with Louis' legs in his lap, his own arm slung around Liam's neck.

"Zap," Louis murmurs, slow and slurred and heavy with exhaustion. "Love you."

\-----


End file.
